No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
by Paige Terner
Summary: The right choice isn't always the easy one. And it doesn't always turn out the way you want it to.


******Title: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished**

******Summary: The right choice isn't always the easy one. And it doesn't always turn out the way you want it to.**

******Disclaimer: I don't own most of the characters I write about. If you recognize a name, odds are it isn't mine. But seeing as this is a fanfic website, you probably knew that already.**

**Thanks again to Sunshiny-Kate, the best beta a writer could ask for****!**

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Ryan looked down at his desk and reached for the first thing he saw. His fingers wrapped around it and he threw the item as hard as he could. In his blind rage, he didn't even have a chance to see what it was. Maybe it was a book. Maybe it was his daily tear-away calendar of corny jokes Castle had given him last Christmas. Maybe it was a piece of evidence. He didn't care. He crossed his arms angrily, tightly, trying desperately to hold himself together as he let more of his weight settle onto the edge of his desk.

He was normally much more in control, and he rarely let himself lash out like that. But right now, he was furious, he was confused, and he was hurt. So it was either throw something or hit something, and Jenny would ask all sorts of questions if he came home with bloody knuckles. And questions were the last thing he wanted to deal with. He had to sort this out for himself before he could even think about trying to explain it to his wife without taking this out on her by yelling at her simply because she was the only one around.

He needed to get out of the precinct. He didn't care what Gates might say. He needed some air. A lot of it. And he needed it now. He uncrossed his arms, huffed out a shaky breath, and stood up. He glanced at Beckett's desk, sans elephants, and shook his head, then put on his jacket and headed for the stairs. The elevator wouldn't do, he needed to burn energy any way he could, needed any outlet possible for the harsh adrenaline burning through his veins.

Trotting down each flight two steps at a time, he reached the lobby in what felt like an instant. He gave a nod in the direction of the front desk clerk as he strode across the stone floor, his shoes marking each heavy footfall loudly. He slammed the front door open, grabbing it at the last second before it hit the wall. Paying for a new door certainly wouldn't make him feel any better. As it slipped shut behind him, he sucked in a long breath, counted to five, and forced it out slowly through mostly closed lips.

Then he began to walk.

He didn't have a destination in mind. He just wanted to move. To be alone with his thoughts. And now that he was, they flooded his mind anew.

He'd done the right thing. Sure, he'd betrayed the trust that Beckett and Esposito had in him. Yes, he'd gone behind their backs and told Gates what they were doing, where they had gone. But Beckett, wherever she was right now, was breathing because of it. Given a chance to do it over, he would do the same thing. Really, he was the one who got the short end of the proverbial stick.

His leader was gone. The way her desk looked, it might be for good. And if that were the case, no homicide case would ever be the same again. He didn't need her, he was a fantastic detective. But she brought something to the team that no one else would ever be able to. She helped him remember that it wasn't about the number of solves and arrests on the books. This job was about justice, and closure, and fighting for the ones left behind. Not that he could ever forget what she had taught him, but it still wouldn't feel right without her there.

His best friend, his partner, his brother, he was gone too. Probably not for good, but who knows what happened while he was in Gates' office. He hadn't looked happy at all when he came out of the uncomfortably silent room. Then he'd grabbed his essentials and left, without a word. In fact, he hadn't said a word since the roof.

Neither had Beckett. The last thing she had said to him was a desperate, whispered request for Castle, to which he'd shook his head, not knowing what to say.

This sucked. It wasn't fair. He'd done nothing wrong. Well, not wrong in the grand scheme of things. But it was wrong in the eyes of Esposito and Beckett. It shouldn't be though. Wouldn't they have done the same? He would hope so. He hoped that if they saw him running towards his death, they would do anything, say whatever it took to whomever they needed to, in order to save his life.

Maybe he should have just gone with them, backed them up physically, not verbally. Been another body on the scene. Anther pair of eyes, an extra set of hands.

No. He wasn't going to let doubt and guilt and self blame fill his head. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd saved Beckett's life. Heck, maybe even Esposito's. Sure, the guy has skills, but Maddox is good too. Maybe he would have gone after Esposito after taking out Beckett if Ryan hadn't arrived with the cavalry.

He kicked at a penny that was on the sidewalk in front of him and looked up. All around him, the city was living vibrantly. People pushed past him, cars laid on their horns, side-walk stand vendors hollered out to potential customers. The rhythm of the city was organic, a thing in and of itself. Yet, as he'd walked, he hadn't noticed any of it. The boisterous sounds had been falling on deaf ears. He'd been completely lost in himself.

Another sigh escaped his lips, emotions still weighing him down, laying hard on his heart, uncertainty swirling in his mind. Suddenly a comforting smell wafted into his nostrils, and he turned to face the coffee cart sitting a few feet away. Yeah. Coffee. That would help. So he walked over, holding up a pointer finger, pulling money from his pocket. Wordlessly, just how he wanted it, the money was exchanged for a paper cup filled with steaming liquid. He fixed it up the way he liked it, affixed a plastic lip on the rim, and continued on his walk to nowhere.

After several minutes of thoughtless wandering, he took a sip. It wasn't like the coffee Castle could make, the perfectly strong yet tantalizingly sweet brew crafted by the talented writer.

Oh. Castle. He was gone too. But at least Castle wasn't mad at him. As far as he knew. Why had he left, though? He obviously wasn't with Beckett, the rooftop had shown Ryan that. Was Beckett with him now? He hoped so. As angry as he was, as abandoned and hated as he felt, he still wanted Beckett to be happy. And Castle could make her so.

He took another sip, a larger one, almost a gulp. He was feeling much calmer now, most likely from a combination of the crisp air, the brisk walk, and the ever-settling cup of joe. He still had no idea what he was going to do, how he would fix this mess he'd been forced to create.

Maybe he'd let Beckett and Esposito fix it. After all, they were the ones who overreacted. He'd merely gotten their backs, he'd only done what he'd thought was best for them. They shut him out. They tossed him aside. They did this. They had been the reason for the break in ranks.

Wait. No. He didn't want to go down that line of thinking again. It would do him no good. He couldn't make amends tonight anyway. So why should he put forth anymore energy into it right now?

He sighed again, fuller, more determined. Then he turned around.

It was time to go home.


End file.
